


Shameless: a collection of intimate encounters

by Kentrakshi (Sartorially), melodicDisarray (fabricatedMiracles)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Blind Character, Blowjobs, Bulge/Nook Combo, F/M, Femdom, Headcanons Everywhere, I am so sorry, I was falling asleep, Incest, Knotting, Light Mommy Kink, M/M, Masturbation, More Incest, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Older Characters, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Part Dog People, Petplay (ish), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sibling Incest, Stridercest - Freeform, Terrible Dirty Talk, Terrible Writing Ahead, Trans Jake, Underage (with consent)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sartorially/pseuds/Kentrakshi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricatedMiracles/pseuds/melodicDisarray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of shameless porn written by yours truly on impulse, in a variety of ship flavors. mostly vent writing from sleepless nights, made to take my mind off the fact that i'm trash at writing. each chapter is capable of standing alone. enjoy, or something.</p><p>THIS WORK WILL LIKELY NEVER BE COMPLETED. PLEASE HEED THIS WARNING BEFORE GETTING ATTACHED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mommy (Dave/Kanaya)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sartorially](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sartorially/gifts).



> this chapter is dave/kanaya, with her in him and a light mommy kink. headcanons everywhere, terrible writing ahead, and smut ahoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kanaya fricks dave's ass.
> 
> whoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. welcome to shameless. looking for a ship you saw in the tags? check the chapter index. have a kink you want to avoid or find? check the chapter notes.

When Kanaya ran into Dave again, in a quiet little dreambubble, just like they had, so many years before, she was taken aback.

She had expected this sort of growth from everyone, and yet, in her mind somewhere, she'd always thought that Dave would always be just a boy, immature and sloppy.

But he had grown. He had a reputation; he was a hot mess, perfect and beautiful and everyone's one-night-stand. He was pierced, shameless, undercut, tattooed, and he had been her little darling.

And now, faced with the lean body of one Dave Strider, his carefully constructed mask of chilly disinterest and his shades ever-present, Kanaya found herself scrambling for words.

"Dave," She said, watching him tap a cigarette from its box into his open palm. Following his hand as the box was returned to its place and the lighter was flicked, she could tell his eyes were on her.

One pure white brow arched over the rim of his eyewear as he dragged in a lungful of smoke.

"Sup?" The albino said, exhaling his smoke off to the side with carefully angled lips.

Those lips, Kanaya thought, that she so missed. When had Dave grown into such a fine man? The troll didn't know, but she found herself glad they were alone.

"I... Missed you," She admitted, watching him smoke. Dave was perfect, in so many ways, and she tended to lose her eloquence around him.

His tongue, pink and sweet and, if she remembered right, just perfect for sucking on, swept over his lips. Two pieces of metal adorned it, and she found herself wondering what it would be like if they kissed.

"I missed you too, Mommy," He murmured, and when she opened her arms, as he knew she would, he came into them.

Her embrace was tight and clinging, and his had her off the ground. Their noses touched, if only for a few seconds, and then it wasn't too far a stretch until their lips were meeting.

She was more than happy to paint his lips black with her kisses, and he wouldn't mind it if she left her mark. He wouldn't mind it if his cigarette burned down. So their mouths pressed together, tongues coming out to play, over his piercings, over her fangs, over everything, and soon, too soon, he was setting her back down on her feet.

"Mommy," He breathed, and she crooned in response, "My darling."

That was all that needed to be said. All she had to do was gently push his shoulder down, and he knelt, pushing her dress up, and tugging away her underwear in a matter of seconds.

Her nook revealed, he flicked his cigarette into the fountain, then leaned in to drag his tongue across her, leaving her unsheathing bulge to wriggle on his face, covering his beautiful skin in her jade green fluids. Even his sunglasses streaked with it, and he didn't care, instead cramming his tongue into her with redoubled effort. It was as if he were a starving man and she his last meal; he was greedy and sloppy, but more than eager to return to his former position between his beloved Mommy's bone white, beautiful legs.

Soon enough, though, he opened his mouth, dripping copious amounts of her fluids all over himself and his chin, and took her bulge into that perfect mouth. He had never, it seemed, forgotten what Mommy had taught him, and he kept as still as he could as her now-immense bulge wriggled in his bulging throat. There was no breath in his lungs, but she was inside his mouth, and the pleasure he found in being used was far too addicting for him to even consider that he needed air.

Clawed hands slipped into his snowy hair, steadying him further as Kanaya slowly eased back, then as she thrust back in and heard him gag and choke a bit on her bulge. He, however, didn't complain, instead licking wherever he could reach, encouraging her to do that again, to use his mouth for her pleasure.

So she gripped him by his hair, and her hips rocked against his plump pink lips.

It wasn't long, however, before she withdrew, and he panted, hand groping at the crotch of his pants, "Mommy, will you fuck me? Please?"

She hadn't been planning to, but it had been so long... And Dave looked so needy. 

So Kanaya relented, offering a hand for him and helping him to his feet. Guiding him to the railing overlooking the gardens of her former home, the setting of this particular bubble, she gave him time to undo his pants and get situated. Then she was behind him, her bulge curling in on itself and needing a few tugs to straighten out a bit before she pressed just the tip into him.

There was no pain for him, and she entered with ease, slowly sliding her bulge into him until she reached the base.

Dave's hands clutched at the railing, and he moaned softly as he adjusted to the sensation of being full of thick, cool troll bulge.

It was, he mused, so different from the sensation of a cock, and it was perfect, having Kanaya, his beloved Mommy, inside him again. It had been far too long, and the young adult reveled in the sensation. She'd grown since he was fifteen, and he could feel every soaking wet shift of Kanaya's bulge inside his tight hole.

God, it was lovely, and when she actually began to thrust, he gasped and shuddered. He'd practically forgotten the amazing sensation of it all.

Dave's hair, long on the left, flopped into his eyes, his shades long since having slid down his finely boned nose. He cursed as Kanaya moved against him, her own voice forming nothing but gentle cries and moans. It was a stark contract, truthfully, to Dave's incessant profanities, and as he got closer, losing his breath, his language somehow became even more profane.

"Fuck, fuck, yes, Mommy, fuck my ass, do me until I can't fucking move." He whined, rocking back against her, and stroking himself off with a light, quick hand.

It was with a scream that he finally came, and with a soft moan that she finally reached her orgasm in him, and a bucket sketched itself into existence beneath her as she pulled out and spilled her genetic material inside.

Then it was erased, again, and they were laying together, Dave cuddling into her bosom sleepily, her holding him tight, though when they both woke up, neither would be there, but awake again in reality, and so, so far from their coupling that no one but them would know about.

As long as time could keep a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i run on kudos and comments and would love to get some.


	2. Only (Alpha Bro/Dirk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter where they frick (aren't they all, though?). lelelele. enjoy the alpha bro/dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup? look out for incest, age differences, underage sex with consent, awkward dirty talking, and my terrible smutting.
> 
> have fun reading.

Some massive number of immense fuck-ups after that first time that Dirk was stupid enough to share a bed with his brother, he found himself, once again, in the same place.

Huddling under Ambrose's covers, Dirk's bare chest touching his brother's, both of them knew that it was only a matter of time before one of them was on his back.

Neither questioned it at that point. Ambrose never complained, Dirk never said a word. The legality of it was irrelevant, and so was the morality. They were brothers, and they wanted no one but each other anymore.

Rosaline had been erased from Ambrose by Dirk, and Jake had been erased from Dirk by Ambrose.

And so when Dirk whispered, "Kiss me, Ambrose," there was no hesitation.

Their lips met, and Dirk shifted, holding his brother close.

Ambrose was misunderstood, he told himself. Ambrose needed him. His brother wasn't another old prick in a stuffy suit; his brother was a tired man who needed love, and that was why he was with Dirk. Dirk was the only one who could give him everything.

It gave the younger a purpose.

Their kisses, long and slow, tasted sweet, and lasted for as long as there was breath to sustain them. When, finally, they broke apart, Dirk's hands slid up Ambrose's chest to tweak at pink nipples gently.

"Ambr," he breathed, "I love you."

"I love you too, Dirk." The platinum blond man murmured, letting the younger take control of things.

Dirk needed him. Needed someone that trusted him unconditionally, that loved him blindly, that let him have control so young.

Sixteen-year-old sunset orange eyes met thirty-four-year-old dawny reds in the weak light of the moon, and unspoken consent passed between them.

Clothes were discarded, and then Dirk was back on top, grinding his half-hard length against Ambrose's stiffening dick, drawing moans from them both. Dirk's hand, with its thin fingers and steady grip, took them both, pumping urgently, bringing them to full hardness soon enough.

Ambrose's hand searched in the darkness for the bottle of lubricant that sat in the drawer of the nightstand, even as Dirk reached into the pocket of his discarded pants with his free hand to pull out the condom he was never without where Ambrose was concerned. His brother insisted; Dirk ceded. He would rather not catch anything, in the event Ambr's blood tests turned up anything but negative, though that had never happened, in their two years of a relationship.

Tearing the packet open, he was quick and efficient in getting the thing on, but before applying the lubricant to his brother, Dirk paused.

"Ambr... Ready?"

It was a heartbeat before the elder brother, the famous one, the film director, gave the affirmative, then another beat as Dirk slicked his fingers and sank one of them into Ambrose to the knuckle, slowly working him, opening him up gently.

"Dirk, talk," Ambrose murmured, shifting to better accommodate that penetrating digit, and the younger nodded.

A second finger joined the first. "You're so perfect, Ambr. You're the best brother; the perfect slut." Dirk breathed, trying to mask the nervous quiver in his voice, stretching Ambrose out carefully.

He hooked his fingers just right, and the famous Ambrose quivered and moaned, arching up, then slowly rotating his hips as Dirk massaged that perfect place.

"Look at you, humping on my fingers, like a whore. You don't even have that much self-control." Dirk crooned, voice a bit more confident, in his brother's ear, eliciting a sweet whine when he pressed juuuust right. "You're a fucking slut for me, huh, Ambrose? You can't ever get enough."

Ambrose nodded, his legs pulled up to his chest, and he gasped, "Jesus, Dirk, I need you so bad. Please, please, stop teasin' me."

Three fingers, now, all tucked away in Ambrose, and by then, his begging was desperate, and Dirk was aching to be inside him. So, both of them knowing full well he was under-prepared, he pulled away his fingers and slicked up his dick.

He lined himself up, his head pressing on Ambrose's loosened entrance, and looked to his brother's face in the darkness.

"Fuck me, Dirk," Ambrose breathed, and the teen complied. Pushing into Ambrose shot something like lightning into Dirk's veins, and he groaned out loud.

"Ambr," He grit out, voice strained, "you're fucking tight, goddamn. You haven't been fucking around, have you?"

Long legs, smooth and white, came to rest on Dirk's shoulders. Had he been a bit more focused, some level of comparison, probably porcelain or snow, would have been there to describe the exact whiteness. Right now, however, all Dirk had was white and smooth and fuck, how Ambrose was _so fucking tight_ and perfect and all his.

"Y-you know I don't. Not anymore. You're..." Ambrose's breath caught as Dirk shifted. "You're my only," He finished, clawing at the sheets as Dirk pulled out.

And then he slammed back in, making Ambrose's bed creak a bit.

Again, then, more urgently.

Harder.

Their hands found each other, tangling together as Dirk's thin, boyish hips rammed against Ambrose's, the teen thrusting into his beloved older brother with all he had to give.

One hand came up to stroke Ambrose off, his thin fingers shaking, finally, with the lovely pleasure that he was feeling, that he wanted to give his brother as he thrust.

He was young, still awkward. Still nervous and innocent. His voice still shook when he talked dirty. Ambrose still had to ask him to do that. It had only been four months doing this, though they'd loved each other beyond brotherhood for much longer.

But Ambrose knew Dirk would learn. And his experience didn't matter at all. What they had was love, love that was forbidden, and neither of them cared.

Moaning, whining, gasping, and then, Dirk's eyes squeezed shut, face warming with a blush as he orgasmed, shuddering. His shaky, weak hand kept right on stroking, though, and Ambrose had to move it to assure him that he could take care of it.

So Dirk pulled out, slipping the condom off and flicking it into the trash, and then he sprawled beside Ambrose, who was finishing himself with a few quick strokes. Wiping himself off with a tissue, which was tossed into the bin, Ambrose cuddled close to Dirk, offering his back and letting the younger press against him and be the big spoon.

"Am I really?"

"Mmh?" Ambrose said dazedly, and Dirk clarified, "Your only. Am I really?"

There was nothing but sincerity in Ambrose's voice.

"Really."

"...Thanks. That means a lot."

"You're welcome. Can I fuckin' sleep now?"

"Yeah, sorry. G'night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments? please don't hesitate!


	3. Woof (Bro/Dave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part dog striders do the frick-frack oho.
> 
> i'm so sorry. this is terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look out for part dog striders, incest, knotting, terrible writing, and a modified alpha/beta/omega dynamic i'll elaborate on later.

Strifing Bro was no easy task. He was bigger, faster, stronger, everything Dave wasn't. The days were his, and he played the stronger older brother, the Alpha of the family, while Dave, a Beta Minus, sat quiet and cunning, biding his time.

Strife after strife, Dave landed on his tail, and when there were bruises all over him and he was too sore to even pounce or snarl, he would relent, and Bro would tease him incessantly about being a weak puppy.

He would top Dave every single time they had sex, and he'd never thought the young Beta minded much being taken. The way the system of their kind worked was simple. Alphas were dominant over all the rest, and he was an Alpha, and Dave a Beta. The roles were clear and filled, and Dave had never wanted anything beyond that.

But now, he was nineteen fuckin' years old, and he wasn't afraid of his brother anymore.

He had a plan to get his brother's respect a different way. It was a plan he'd had for months, and he'd been watching, waiting, and now was his time to strike. They'd chatted jokingly about kinks before, when Dave had turned eighteen, and Dave had seen a perfect opportunity to get Bro to kneel for him.

The older dog had a kink for being dominated, and Dave was not about to let that pass him by. Not when it was there for him to take advantage of so clearly. 

Everything had been organized, planned perfectly, and it started with one simple leather strap.  
-

Derrick Strider was a heavy sleeper. On the futon, on the floor; wherever the seven-and-some foot tall dog could fit when he was tired, he would sleep.

And then he'd wake up whenever he woke up, eat something, work out, and spend the rest of day aggravating Dave. It was a nice kind of life, and an easy one.

Stretching, Derrick stirred, then he sat up.

Or attempted to.

Around his neck was an orange leather collar, and clipped onto it was a red leash that was fastened, by way of complex knot, to the futon.

"Th'fuck?" He muttered, brows knitting, and he reached out to try and undo the collar. Derrick, however, was interrupted in that endeavor by the sound of Dave coming in, and his ears flicked up, tail fluffing nervously, though he immediately relaxed upon scenting the younger.

"Oh, look. You're awake. Having fun there, Mr. Alpha Dog?"

"Oh, no." The older dog said, his cream ears swiveling back into a hostile position. "Ya planned this, didn't ya, ya lil' shit?"

The boy in the aviators smirked darkly, then shrugged, feigning an innocence that he had never possessed. "I'm tired of your bullshit. You're not all that, Derrick, and you let it slip. You set yourself up for this. Can you see it through, or are you scared? I can back off, if you don't feel Alpha enough."

Now Dave had done it. He'd turned the subject to jab where it hurt: Derrick's manhood. It infuriated the Alpha dog, if only because of his nature and status, and he barked, "I ain't squicked by a lil' pup like ya happen t'be."

"So," The other retorted, "will you let me be in charge?"

There was the dilemma. If he let Dave take charge, he was accepting a challenge, but backing off his controlling nature, and coming off as weak. If he stuck to his guns, denying the challenge, he was weak in another way, and he had no clue which was worse.

So he eventually went the way Dave knew he would.

Baring his sharp teeth, Derrick snarled, "Fine. Take charge. But watch it, puppy. Overstep, an' I'll beat ya back int'th'place you belong."

Dave was no doubt pleased by that statement, though he did well to mask it. Stretching, then padding across the floor to Derrick, he reached out with neat claws to scratch at a big ear. The elder's tail swished, despite himself, and he watched Dave's every move warily. The flick of the button, the pull of the zip, then his cock, modest and almost human when fully hard (at just about ten inches), was free of his jeans. It was just in the mid-range of Beta Minus sizes, but compared to the nineteen that Derrick was packing as an Alpha, that was nothing.

"Suck," Came the command, in a stern tone, and Derrick opened his mouth, dragging his tongue over Dave's half-hard dick a few times before leaning forward and taking it into his mouth, careful of his teeth.

Derrick wasn't out of practice here; he would sometimes suck the younger off, but it wasn't a daily thing. Dave guided him easily, though, telling him how to suck, when to go harder or ease up or lick, and he kept scratching just behind Derrick's big ear, encouraging him.

Soon enough, the younger was stiff, and Derrick (almost reluctantly) let the teen pull his length from his warm mouth. Licking his lips, Derrick clenched and unclenched his muscles anxiously.

"Okay, lay back," Dave instructed, taking off what remained of his clothing before getting up on the futon when Derrick was settled. His tail was still, low and swept aside, and white ears flicked nervously up and down as he took up his next position.

Straddling Derrick's face, Dave was glad he'd chosen to face away from his brother as he reddened fiercely. His voice, despite that, remained steady.

"Eat me out," Dave commanded, voice shaking slightly, and Derrick's hands came up to spread milky white cheeks. As he laved gently over the younger dog's entrance, there was a stirring in his own jeans, and his tail wagged a bit, thumping against the cushioned surface of the futon.

Carefully kissing and licking at Dave's perfectly tight hole, the older dog gently kneaded the plump ass that filled his hands. Dave's moans were music to his ears, and had a pair of fine hands not unzipped his pants and found his building erection, he would have probably made fun of the younger for the whines and whimpers that escaped him.

"F-fuck, Bro," Dave breathed, rocking back on Derrick's face. The hands on that impressive dick weren't shy for a second; they stroked roughly and urgently, with the intention of getting him hard, not of bringing him pleasure.

The denial of that pleasure he so wanted was infuriating to Derrick, and it drove him to lick and eat out the poor little pup that had thought he was in control even harder and faster.

"Stop," Dave gasped eventually, body trembling as he moved away from Derrick's face, instead sitting squarely on his groin and humping against that beast of a cock his brother sported as hard as he could, pleasure bordering on pain.

Thankful then, that he was a canid, not a full human, he lined up with Derrick's cock, then guided his hips back and sank down, taking all of his immense brother in one long stroke.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he adjusted. Thankful once again for the position they were in, Dave began to rock his hips slowly, feeling every bit of delicious friction between them. Dave's lust only amplified every sensation, and as Derrick reached up to grip at his hips, his hands were pushed away.

"Fuck no," The younger panted, essentially rendering Derrick as useful as a sex toy, riding him, using him for pleasure, without considering that he might feel pleasure too.

Dave was venting, clearly, every frustration he had with every slam of his hips, every moan, every growl. He'd been subordinate to Derrick's whims far too long, and now, this was his damn show.

He could feel himself close, and he pulled on the leash hard, jerking his dazed brother's attention back to him. Confused but aroused orange eyes met aviator shades, and Dave barked, "Fuck me."

Immediately, Derrick's hands came up to grip fine hips, and he was drawing back, half-sliding out before ramming in hard again. It ripped a satisfying scream from the younger, whose hands came to rest on Derrick's, his claws pricking the flesh.

Dave and Derrick still adored each other, clearly, but sometimes, as had become evident, there needed to be some sort of role reversal. If only to preserve their sanity.

Dave's body pulled taut, and he gritted out, "Shit, shit, Bro, hit that again!"

Another perfect ram right into that place, and Dave legitimately shrieked, "Oh, God, Bro, finish me, I'm so fucking close, please!" His claws sank into flesh, drawing beads of blood up to the surface. Derrick pulled his hand away to pump at Dave, pulling smoothly, and the boy came, sticky white cum smearing Derrick's hand.

Dragging his hand up to Dave's mouth, Derrick could feel that little tongue licking at his fingers. The pup wasn't very good at being dominant, really, but he had tried his best, and had shown his Alpha brother that he could handle being in control, and that sometimes, he wanted to be in charge.

Derrick's thrusts became shallower and shallower as the thick knot at the base of his length swelled, and soon enough, he and Dave were tied, if only for a short while, as he filled the younger's belly with his huge load.

It took a bit of work, but Dave shifted to face his brother and lay on his massive chest. This was the part that was always easy, between them. Their sex drives were shut down now, in favor of their genetic urge to cuddle. Dave had both his breeding Alpha and protecting Alpha in his brother, and that was more than fine.

Warm hands rubbed at his back, and claws scritched at his tail a bit. Dave was limp as his brother emptied into him, and he sighed out sleepily, "Thank you, Bro."

"Yep." Derrick responded, fairly driven to sleep himself, and there was no more talk as they dozed off.

They'd deal with the mess they'd made when they woke up again.

So there they lay, sleeping deeply, with their hair plastered to their sweaty foreheads, a collar around Derrick's neck and a leash in Dave's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos? comments? go ahead. that shit is free.
> 
> requests for chapter six and up open. comment me any kink and any ship, and if i like it, you'll get a chapter. now, be aware that i refuse not because of kinks, but because of the ship. i have some common ships as notps, but i'm not afraid of any kink, really.
> 
> seriously, though, request, or i may have to give this up, because i've only got ideas up to chapter five. if i know i have readers, i'll be sure to have your needs in mind when i pen up this trash (forgive me the constant self-loathing; i'm not me without it).
> 
> basically, this is where i practice writing so that i'm not so lame; you can help me be better by giving me feedback. don't be afraid to be brutal.
> 
> thanks for your readership; now, i'm off to crack out four and five. can't wait to see what you come up with! 


	4. Ashes, Ashes (Bro/Jake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blind jake and bro. my otp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blind people, trans jake (ftm), ptsd, coworkers boning, the police, implied death? shots fired.

Jake English was legally blind, and had been since he was five. He'd been male since he was six, and often joked that losing his ability to see was what had really opened his eyes.

His sight was essentially gone, but it was really nothing to him. He was used to it, to his blurs of color, and his other senses stepped in to make up for what was missing.

Nothing could stop him, not even what was considered blindness, not even the gender barrier, and he studied hard and trained his body harder.

His crowning moment was when he entered the police force, graduating from the academy with full marks and honors.

He'd scraped himself up to Homicide within two years, demonstrating amazing prowess and tact, with a knack for finding clues beyond the visual ones that existed. His partner, Derrick, never ceased to be impressed by the blind man and his trusty cane.

But being blind didn't make life in the force any prettier.

They'd once come onto the scene too soon.

Tap, tap-tap. Jake's cane over the wood, scanning for anything that might make him trip. The slight scuffling of his shoes, and then nothing, as Jake stopped.

The silence was broken by a searing flash, and a thundering noise. Immediately, Jake's cane dropped, and he crouched, grabbing for his gun. Another flash. Same location.

He had a target. Up on the stairs, he could hear Derrick, and he shouted, "Stay back, Derrick!"

It was less a matter of protection and more a matter of pride. He had to do this alone. He had to prove it, because no one believed he was strong enough to go it alone.

There was one way out, and it was through him, and Jake was not about to let himself get ghosted over this.

No. He could do it, and it would be fine. He'd be able to make it.

So he steadied his hands, and he pulled the trigger.

Not far from his target, splinters flew.

A miss. His hands were shaking.

Click-click.

The chamber spun, offering him a second chance, and he could hear movement behind him, Derrick's heavy breathing and the click of his safety coming undone.

Then another flash, closer, and he ducked again, squinting through his lenses, trying to focus on something, anything in the shadows.

Another shot, and a cry, far closer than he'd expected.

In that moment, Jake's fear overclocked (what if the target could see him now? what if he was already raising his gun?) and in a second that went far too fast, he emptied his gun, despite Derrick telling him to stop, telling him their shooter was down.

Jake could barely hear.

A heavy hand fell on his slim shoulder, and his own fingers went totally slack.

A breath, and then he could sense it, thick and awful.

Bitter-salt iron and dusty-hot powder.

It wasn't a smell. It wasn't a taste. It was simply a sense, an awareness, that existed while his other senses were in overdrive, trying to let him understand.

Time slowed as it all caught up with him.

There was a taste that lingered in Jake's mouth, like fire, like smoke, like sparks and people dying. All he could smell was heat and lightning, and flashes danced in his vision. He heard a distant clatter over the ringing in his ears.

Then there came a wheeze.

And a shriek of terror.  
-

Sitting up, Jake pulled his knees to his heaving chest, squishing his breasts under his thighs.

His naked skin was cold and clammy, and his unstyled hair stuck up every which way from the sheer amount of tossing and turning he had done all night.

The panic written on his face was impossible to hide, and his breath, shallow and terrified in the darkness, came far too loudly.

He'd killed a man, months before, and he had scrubbed his skin clean back at the station.

But he was still a murderer. There was still blood on his hands, even if he couldn't see it, and it wouldn't leave him alone.

It haunted his job, his home, his dreams...

He couldn't make out the bright green numbers on the clock with his glasses off. He could barely make out the person stirring next to him in the bed.

"S'happenin', Jakeyboo?" Came that rumbling Texan voice, and all it did was remind Jake that he wasn't meant to be here.

"I had that dream again."

"Fuck," Derrick said, sitting up to pull the distressed man into his arms. "There anythin' I can do t'help ya?"

Jake sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, and he murmured, "My mouth tastes like a gunfight and I feel as if I'm breathing ozone." Those warm hands, large and strong, rubbed at his bare back, and the smaller of the two continued, "I killed a man, and all I can manage to feel now is murder."

"Y'know that there's more'n that t'that night."

"Isn't there more to everything, Derrick? There's more to that night, more to last night, more to you and I than there should have ever been in the first place, and all we do is smile and pretend we don't notice. There can be stones upon stones' weight in other details, but that doesn't change a single piddly piece of skull-fucking shit."

"Jake."

"I shot him, and I feel guilt." The blind detective pressed, turning towards the clock to stare into the light. "As I well should. There are too many things I do that I never bother to count a pip's worth for, when, in reality, I'm the fuck-up."

"Jake," Derrick repeated, trying to steady the other, trying to soothe him, but only getting himself irritated in the process. "We ain't on duty, we ain't badged, and we ain't sellin' secrets. Don't shit me 'bout guilt when ya get t'talkin' bout us."

Jake snorted, his eyes closing, and then he felt lips at his neck, warm and inviting.

"Now c'mon... Relax. Go back t'sleep. Or at least gimme a chance t'make ya feel better 'bout us."

A hand slipped under the covers, large fingers playing over Jake's folds, rubbing and teasing gently. Jake's back tensed a moment, but then, thinking about it, he relented, leaning into the larger man and spreading deep caramel brown thighs.

Slowly, two fingers spread delicate, plump lips, and then a third rubbed at that little nub, flicking the golden barbell that adorned it a bit. Jake shuddered at the touch to his clitoris, humming out a sound of pleasure, and his hips twitched forward for more. His breath caught with each flick on the piercing, and the soft little pants of Jake's breath were music to Derrick's ears.

Rubbing in slow, teasing circles, Derrick kept that motion going for a bit until Jake was wet (which, given his sensitivity, was not long). Jake's hands slid up to tangle into golden hair, and he pulled the other's head forward, drawing him into a kiss.

Jake's tongue played over those sweet, slightly chapped lips, and then Derrick's joined the fray. The blind man drank in the taste of his partner, reveling in him, and let Derrick melt away the mouthful of hell that Jake felt lingered there uninvited.

Easing a finger into Jake, Derrick curled it just slightly, so that his fingertip was on that place that was slightly rougher on the upper part of Jake's walls, and he pressed and rubbed at it, making those hands in his hair pull tighter. Jake arched and moaned, grateful for the darkness that hid his expression.

Here in the night, Derrick was nearly as blind as he was, and it made Jake feel as capable as his partner. Generally, he didn't let his blindness get to him, but when his partner could see and he could only make out colors, it felt almost unfair.

Not to Jake, of course, but for some reason, he had this idea that by being blind, he was offending his partner somehow.

His thoughts were cut short as teeth sank into his shoulder, and he moaned out, "God, yes, that's golden, Derrick." There was a brief suck, then a lick over the flesh. Both of them knew Jake would bruise deeply there; his caramel skin would display the marks of Derrick's lovebites for days.

"How far ya think ya can handle?" The blond man breathed in Jake's ear. After flashbacks like that, there were some nights he could barely even take being touched, and Derrick was always kind enough to ask, never pushing him beyond his limits.

"I'll tell you when to stop."

So then, there was a shifting of bodies. Jake was gently laid against the pillows and the blankets were pushed aside, and his strong thighs were easily gripped and held apart by Derrick's warm, capable hands, one of the fingers still wet from being inside the weak-sighted man.

Derrick pressed his lips to Jake's inner thigh, kissing along a tensed muscle until he reached the smaller, more delicate male's damp folds. Carefully sliding his tongue around Jake's clit, he sucked the little nub past his lips a moment before moving to that wet entrance.

"Turned on already, Jakey? Someone's eager."

"Stop talking, Derrick, you utter wingnut, and just get to it," Jake breathes, running a hand through his own already fucked up hair. He didn’t really have time to continue, with those sinful lip pressing up against his fluttering entrance. Honestly, it was rather embarrassing how slick he felt.

And that deep, rumbly laughter was _not_ helping _in the bloody least._ y talented fingers, rough along the tenseness of his thighs, slid down to the plush lips, blood-enriched with Jake’s desire. Slowly, the man’s thumbs were pulling them apart, and he didn’t just show his partner off. He _bared_ him, and looked with a powerful intent. What little he could make out by the bright light of the clock was perfect, just so Jake, and he couldn't hold back a little shuddering sigh.

“Fuck, ya look delicious.”

"Then," Jake murmured, "stop talking. Just eat me, please..." He paused, only briefly, before appending in a low voice, "Don't make me beg you."

“Aw, shit, caught in th’act.” His breath was hot over the spread, tongue briefly trailing over his lips and flicking against Jake’s labia. “Ya know how much I love ya beggin’. ‘Cause it makes ya blush all deep…” Another flick, a gentle scrape against outer lips from his thumbnails. “But a’right, sweetcheeks.”

He was done chattering now, though, because the smell that permeated Jake’s groin and thighs was driving him utterly wild. His teeth tapped against that little nub, perking with the lust he was stoking inside his unhappy lover. His tongue dragged, flat and broad, over every inch of Jake’s sex, eyes slowly flicking up.

It was really too bad that his bedroom eyes weren’t fully appreciated. But the lick certainly received Jake's approval, in the form of a moan, and a caramel-skinned hand slipped down, out of Derrick's hair. Fingers trailed along his cheek, and then a thumb brushed his brow. Fingernails scraped along his stubble, and Jake breathed, "I love you so much."

Derrick lay still a moment, letting Jake see him with his hands, and then he responded in kind with the statement before carrying on.

There were advantages to Jake being fairly horribly sighted, and they usually involved the multiple uses of sexual surprises (which, thankfully, Jake was okay with him using most of the time). His thumb pushed rather roughly up against Jake’s clitoris, and the sharp mewling that came with it was music to his ears.

“Fuck.”

He rocked his hand slowly, wrist carrying out most of the motion while his tongue danced about the rest of his boyfriend’s sloppy sex. God, he was so addicted to the tastes and the way those slim fingers slipped through his hair to yank and pull in time with the forcing of one little piercing up against the twitching nub that had another whiiiine escaping his dearest.

Arching and moaning, chest heaving, Jake encouraged Derrick to keep doing what he was doing, and soon, too soon, he was at the point where he was hyperventilating, on the verge of coming, and it was clear. There was no masking it from anyone, much less Derrick.

As Jake shuddered out soft sounds, mostly made up of gasps, those strong hands gripped tightly at plump, caramel cheeks, just where thigh met ass. 

A few more licks, and Jake was done, hands tightening like vices in Derrick's hair as he screamed so loudly that neither had to question the fact that yeah, everyone around could hear what they were doing.

That long tongue, still delving and sliding, worked Jake over firmly to finish his orgasm with a bit of a shuddering comfort.

Not a minute had passed before Derrick was having his face touched again, Jake touching and feeling the tensed parts, assuring himself that Derrick wasn't unhappy.

"Derr, please," The weak-sighted man murmured, hands leaving Derrick's face to nervously cup his breasts in that uneasy way of his. He was insecure, though he could see no imperfection, and in the darkness, another minute ticked by. The clock flicked into another number, and the green light that illuminated them both changed just slightly, casting them in an almost eerie atmosphere that was made romantic only by their feelings for one another.

"Please... Take me."

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Derrick leaned over Jake, looming above him and pressing their lips together. The tang of Jake’s orgasm was still heavy on his tongue and now it mingled with the sweetness of his lips. There was a hint of that flavored toothpaste they shared, and then he was pulling back, hands resting on full breasts. He had two heaping handfuls of bosom that he was quick to lavish and bend to with all the affection that he was capable of providing.

“God, ya’re so fuckin’ perfect. Tits fittin’ in m’palms jus’ right, all sensitive an’ gettin’ ya moanin’...” Thumbs rolling over nipples and plump areolas, pulling just a bit to urge a few sighs out of the younger. He was so lovely, beneath the Texan’s touch.

Jake’s arching back was utterly incredible, the perfection of that curve something that he would map out with all of his body if he’d been able to focus on anything but the sheer aesthetic appeal.

And he was kind of hard as a rock, so, there was that, too.

It wasn’t that terrible, especially with murmurs passing between them, their hands linking as Derrick pressed himself up against the rounded lips of his vagina, entering his lover with a throaty sort of noise. Maybe a groan, but definitely a sound of pleasure, as they joined in the most intimate of fashions.

God, how was Jake always so _tight_?

They were shifting, with those lovely legs pushed into the air and Derrick’s strong hips working with the utmost precision. As always, he was a growling, huffing mess; starkly contrasting the keens and the scrabbling of chocolate fingertips over his broad shoulders as he reached the innermost of secret places within his lover.

“Oh, _God_ , Derrick. Oh, yes, just like that. Devilfucking Dickens, you beast, I’m on _fire_.”

The slick sounds of their vicious yet perfectly loving coupling were loud in the confines of their bedroom, and even louder in Jake’s ears. Everything was amplified. Everything, from the heat of the other’s man’s skin to the sheets that slid beneath his shoulders. Their every kiss was delicious and sweet and alive and…

The nightmare was nothing but a memory.

Nothing in the face of their lovemaking, as silly as that sounded.

With that handy-dandy little implant in Jake’s arm, the fact that he was soon a sopping mess wasn’t a problem in the least. In fact, he really preferred it. Their mutual climax, aided copiously by those rough fingertips on an overstimulated little nub, was one of the best.

Then again, Jake said that every time.

Strong arms pulling him up against a broad chest riddled with scars and peppered with fine blonde hairs, chapped lips pressing to a sweaty forehead of a warm and chocolaty hue, and words that were utterly perfect when murmured with all the sincerity in the world.

“I love ya, babe. Go th’fuck t’sleep.”

Even the silly order couldn’t keep Jake’s heart from swelling.


	5. Bitch -Part the First- (Dirk/Bec)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part one of two. in which dirk sucks off a dog.
> 
> dedicated to canisbecquerelus on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look out for bestiality, blowjobs, masturbation, a mild pain kink, and headcanon underwear on dirk lelelele. no actual boning in this chapter.
> 
> dedicated to canisbecquerelus on tumblr.

Dirk had never expected himself to spend his shut-in weekend (and the subsequent month of vacation) watching Bec for Jade. But since there was no one else to take care of the massive Samoyed, given that Jane had her bakery, John was on a national choir tour, Jake was going with Jade, the Lalondes were in France, and Dave was likely to blow the dog's head off.

So the elder Strider, alone in his condo, took in the dog, and the first week was uneventful. Becquerel was a pretty well-behaved dog; he didn't piss anywhere but the places he was supposed to, and didn't chew up the furniture.

By the time the second week came around, the man and the dog were chummy, and when Dirk sprawled on the couch in his boxer briefs to watch a movie with the curtains shut and a beer in his hand, Bec would join him, laying beside him. By Thursday, the dog was laying on him, resting his head on the human's chest and stretching out lazily between Dirk's legs.

It was like having a blanket, Dirk mused, scratching the dog's ears and skipping to the next DVD he'd tossed in his player.

"Yo, Bec."

The dog's eyes flicked up to Dirk, green and intelligent, and the guy smiled.

"I'm glad you don't talk."

{That you know of,} the canine thought, wagging his tail.  
-

It was just another Monday in his vacation for Dirk; he rolled out of his bed, which was now shared with the big white dog, in the morning, and jumped into the tub, tossing his black boxer briefs into the hamper.

Sighing, he felt like doing something a little different, so he braced his arm on the wall as he bowed his head under the spray, then felt around on the wall for the secret compartment where his favorite dildo was kept. The toy was safer there than in the room, where Dave looked through all his things. Giving his brother his spare key, in retrospect, was the most stupid idea he'd ever had.

However, now was not the time to think about Dave.

Fingers delving into himself, he had to bite his lip to stifle the moan that the slight sting of being stretched drove out of him. It was kind of awful, but the pain was so delicious that he found himself thrusting his fingers deeper and harder in, crying out.

God, it had been so long that he was fucking unraveling, and he couldn't keep quiet. Soon, far sooner than he was ready for, he was cramming that toy into himself, his hand working as fast as he could manage.

His hole was so full, and it hurt but it felt so fucking good, so delicious and stinging and he couldn't shut his fucking mouth, the spray was running cold and he was sobbing out in pleasure in the corner, knees weak as his hand found his cock between his legs and started pumping it in a hurry.

He was so close to coming, so close, and then there came, as he wailed his pleasure, a worried barking and a scrabbling of claws on tile that shattered his mood.

"Bec," he panted, "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Sighing, his orgasm frustrated, he pulled his toy from himself with a slightly wet sound that had his dick aching. A soap and a rinse, and then it was back in its compartment, which was shut.

Then the water was turned off, and Dirk stepped out, cock still half-hard. Reaching for his towel and starting to dry his hair, he assured the dog he was fine, and gave it no more thought until he felt...

Looking down, he was a bit stunned by what he saw. The Samoyed was nosing at his sac, and Dirk could feel him sniffing.

And then a warm, wet tongue dragged curiously over his dick, and he clutched at the towel rack so he wouldn't fall.

"Bec. Bec, down, boy." Dirk gasped, trying to find his footing again, but the dog merely licked again. And again.

Slowly, Dirk's hands loosened around the rack, and he sank to the ground, wet and naked, moaning loudly.

To Bec, it sounded like his new friend was in pain, and yet, the smell of sex had driven his interests up into a place where they probably were not meant to be. His length, thick and hot, was coming out of its furred sheath, and a pair of orange eyes immediately locked onto it.

Dirk felt like such a pervert, and he knew he was. He knew, as he licked his lips, that he was so fucked up. But as his hand closed around that dog cock, his fingers barely touching, and began to stroke, he knew he didn't want anything else.

He wanted the dog to take him in the ass.

But, for the moment, getting that in his mouth would be enough. So he shifted, quietly praising Bec as he went, and petting his side, Dirk dragged his tongue over the head of the Samoyed's prick.

The taste was different; more bitter. He didn't dwell on it, however, as there was no time. Dirk gagged as Bec instinctively rammed into his throat, but that only drove the human to suck and bob his head much more eagerly. The dog was panting, and somehow, they had shifted to Dirk on his side beneath the canine.

Neither cared how.

The dog's knot was swelling under the young man's hands, and Dirk was gladly swallowing down everything Bec was letting loose down his throat. Dog cum was a lot more delicious than he thought, and his hand came up to cup Bec's sac and gently knead his balls, hoping that there would be more.

Far too soon for Dirk, Bec was done, and his knot began to return to normal. The man rolled onto his back and panted, "Good boy, Bec. Good boy."

Dirk was a sweaty, sticky mess. His hair was squashed funny from where he had laid on the floor. His face was flushed, and his lips were slightly swollen and streaked with some lovely cocktail of cum and drool. His hand found his cock again, and he tugged himself off, before he curled up on the tile, far too tired to take the shower he knew he needed to take again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ship and scenario requests open. comments and kudos appreciated always.


End file.
